Lament of a Fallen Saint
by Paperclippe
Summary: The years between Vincent Valentine's induction into the Turks and his meeting with the blond hero, Cloud. (Gets weirder and weirder.)


Lament of a Fallen Saint Chapter 1  
  
Vincent Valentine, a man of just twenty-five, sat alone on a train, his long black hair, freshly trimmed and neatly brushed, falling over the shoulders of his crisp, blue suit. His uniform.  
Vincent had been recruited by the Turks. Too frail to be in SOLDIER, but wiser than most of his elders, his application was readily accepted by Shin-Ra management. He was proud; it was his first real job.  
So here alone sat the yound man, crystal-blue eyes staring out over the upper plates of Midgar. Vincent smiled to himself, thinking he was finally going somewhere. Had he known then what the following years of his life had in order for him, he would have neve donned that crisp, blue suit.  
  


* * *

  
"And here, on the sixtieth floor, is the employee lounge. Of course, you'll need to keycard to access this floor, or any above it..." a pretty, young woman was giving Vincent a tour of the Shin-Ra headquarters. She delved into the pocket of her sterile-looking labcoat with tiny black buttons and pulled out a plastic rectangle that looked much like an average credit card with the Shin-Ra logo emblazened on it. She handed the card to Vincent and he took it cautiously. Slipping it into his jacket pocket, he mumbled a barely audible, "thank you", then promptly began to wring his hands; Vincent didn't exactly have vast quantities of self-esteem.  
"Right," she said, and motioned Vincent toward a stairwell, "let me show you where you'll be stationed, up on the sixty-fifth floor."  
Vincent climbed the stairs slowly, watching his black polished shoes gleam i n the flourescent light that shone down from overhead. Black floor numbers painted on the white, smooth walls passed him like moving scenery in an old film. At floor sixty-five, he stopped and moved for the door, the woman in the labcoat close behind. He pushed open the door and held it for her. Though Vincent thought nothing of this, the woman seemed to be impressed with the gesture. She smiled at him and he blushed, facing his eyes to the floor until she walked by.  
Slowly clearing her throat, she informed, "The lab is this way."  
Vincent paused and thought to himself, "Lab? I thought..." but he hadn't really thought anything. He just hadn't thought...  
He quickened his pace to parallel the woman and found himself bathed in cold, sterilized surroundings, immersed in a world of beeping noises, blinking signals and other unidentifiable things, blue-white light pouring upon his shoulders.  
"Ah, Lucrecia," said a greasy-looking man with coke-bottle glasses and a ponytail, "just in time. Is this Valentine?"  
The woman, now identified as Lucrecia, nodded to this man with an obediance that made her seem some sort of suboordinate to him.  
The man approached Vincent, extending his right hand, "Hello, Mr. Valentine. I see our Lucrecia has already taken the liberty of showing you around the headquarters," and as he shook Vincent's hand, "welcome to the team, Mr. Valentine. I am Hojo, and this is Professer Gast, my superior." Hojo released Vincent from his oily grip.  
Vincent was bothered by this introductory speech. First of all, Vincent did not like the way Hojo snarled out the word "superior". Secondly, Hojo's use of plural possessive pronouns to refer to Lucrecia as his...or mor correctly, "ours", made her seem like she was nothing more than property, or a pet, held captive. And lastly, Vincent had never been called "Mr. Valentine" in his life, and Hojo had succeeded in doing just that - twice in one sentance.  
Hojo approached a tank at the far end of the room. It was glowing and appeared to be filled with some sort of viscous liquid. Hojo pressed his face to the cylindrical glass.  
"And how is our JENOVA doing today?" There was that pronoun again.  
"Just fine," said Professor Gast, a man who seemed to give off an air of wisdom, "she's just fine. The genome has been successfully isolated and will be ready for implementation as soon as we can obtain a zygot."  
Though Vincent had no idea what a JENOVA was, he wasn't stupid. He knew what was going on, and was now very glad for the glittering golder crucifix that hung about his neck. Her reached for it now, spinning the chain of the necklace between his thumb and index finger. Fifteen minutes into his first job and he was supposed to be supervising gene transplants? What was he getting himself into? What were these people trying to create? He stood with his mouth agape until Gast took his hand and brought Vincent to the tank that was facinating Hojo.  
"Isn't she beautiful?" Gast muttered.  
But the sight that Vincent beheld was far from beautiful. In fact, it was nothing short of grotesque. Her...it's...body was that of a woman, but positively enormous. Easily, she was nine feet tall. He skin was thin and purple, with her veins and muscular tissues showing through. Nothing was right about her anatomy. Several nodes and wires were plugged into her...and she didn't look alive, let alone human.  
Lucrecia approached and with that same sensory-overload expression asked, "But where will we find a zygot?"  
"Who knows? Like I said, this will be the hardest part of the trial - finding a woman who would sacrifice her child to science," said Gast quietly, and Hojo sighed.  
Though Vincent did not realize it, he was slowly backing away from the scientists and the JENOVA thing. In fact, no one seem to realize it until Vincent bumped into a desk, knocking pencils askew and sending them clattering to the floor.  
Lucrecia was the first to turn around, as well as the first to speak, "Mr. Valentine, what's wrong?" Vincent could not respond. He felt bile rising in his throat and could only grip the little cross so much tighter before it bit into his flesh.  
"I...excuse me," he managed to choke out before he pitched himself into the hall, gasping great swallows of what seemed to be purer air. On his knees, he bent his head forwars, palms flat against the ground. The necklace dangled outside his collar, exposed, and his eyes shifted down to it as it swayed; the little arms of the crucifix were stained with blood.  
"God, no...oh, please, God, no...Let it be a nightmare..." 


End file.
